I am not Dada
by Sincerely Yours- C.M.D
Summary: *Rescue Bots* Heatwave muses some things during Cody's baby-sitting stint. Implied Mech/Mech slash, mentions of Mpreg. Based on ep 7 "Four Bots and a Baby"


**C.M.D: Rescue Bots is just too enabling for a fangirl like myself. Watch an episode of Blades being uber cute and uke-ish, and you'll be writing up drabbles like I am lol  
>Originally posted May 13, 2012<br>**

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><p><em><strong>I am not Dada<strong>_

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><p>Heatwave hated sparklings.<p>

He didn't really have a reason why, he just did. When Cody wheeled that atrocity of a robotic infant before him, all the firetruck had wanted to do was bolt in the other direction as fast as possible. His comrades, obviously, didn't seem near as inclined to flee as he was. Boulder was excited about the metallic baby and the fun they could have, Chase was babbling on about the fundamental lessons they could learn from this experience and Blades...

Heatwave glanced over his shoulder plating as he scrubbed away at the wall (from where burnt milk had exploded and covered the nearby surfaces, making them all tacky as it began to dry, no thanks to Boulder's incompetence) to find Blades standing idly in the centre of the room, rocking slightly in place.

"Blades... what did you do?," Cody whined, after commenting that silence was never always a good thing and jumping down from the couch where he'd been helping Heatwave clean.

The copter lifted his helm, turning slightly to face his companions, his optics half-shuttered and his alabaster cheekplates tinged a little with energon. "I'm not doing anything bad...," he replied, almost breathlessly. Heatwave's fuel tanks did a little flip flop at the sound. "Isn't that right, cutie patootie?," Blades cooed, turning his helm away and looking at the robotic infant curled comfortably in his servo. The white mech's rotors gave a pleasant, little tremble as the make-shift baby nestled in snugly; tiny servos lifted and grasping the bottle as it drank contently, while Blades whispered and purred sweet, loving things to it.

Heatwave was stunned. This was a side of his comrade that he had never seen before and it... it turned him on. What would it be like, he wondered, if that was a real sparkling Blades carried and not some poor attempt at A.I? A piece of his own circuitry and spark, instead of some human construct? Bearing it within his chassis for several lunar cycles before the spark had grown strong enough to leave its carrier's core. Tender, frail orb of Blades' being swollen, _engorged,_ and pulsing brilliantly... The firetruck curled his fists, refraining from grabbing Blades and dragging him off into the nearest, darkest, most private place possibly; where'd he'd run his fingers down shivering rotors, press beautiful white plating into the wall -maybe even the floor- and grind into that delicious aft, while Blades looked up at him -flushed, intakes hiccuping- begging him, his leader, to...

The red mech was surprised when his pleasant daydreams were interrupted by that ugly, little sparkling parody's face being thrust into his own; Blades smiling up at him cheerfully, gently putting the baby in Heatwave's unsuspecting servos and wandering off to go wash the feeding fluid off from his chestplates. The firetruck watched the copter for a moment, before his entire attention was stolen by the robotic infant cooing and looking delightedly up at Heatwave. The blasted thing wasn't even fussing either.

"I do believe it has imprinted Heatwave as its sire...," Heatwave could hear Chase whisper behind him.

"So, Blades is kinda like the momma, huh?," Boulder elegantly mumbled back.

"...I suppose you could place that title on him," Chase replied. "Parental roles are essential for young life, my databases inform."

Heatwave decided to block the rest of their pointless ramblings out. Normally, he'd be quick to growl or throw a punch at one of those idiots for talking about him behind his back, but... glancing upwards at the happily humming copter cleaning up by the sink, the red mech didn't feel particularly concerned about stopping his dim-witted comrade from calling him "dada" or any other sort of base, human parental term.

After all... He could get used to the idea of being a sire if Blades' was his _beautiful, sweet, sexy_ lil' bondmate.

The metallic infant gurgled happily below.

Heatwave smirked. Perhaps babysitting this useless bit of technology would prove to work to his advantage.

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><p><strong>C.M.D: I <strong>_**LOVE**_** rescue bots~ XD**


End file.
